I wanna live a life from a new perspective UPDATE!!
Sorry it's taken so long!! Here is the update!!
And here is a little preview :))
(for those who don't know its re1 from Wesker's POV!!)
NOTE: this starts mid-chapter!! It is the meeting of Chris and Wesker in the guard house.
Following the corridor down, he reached for the handle of a door marked ‘GALLERY’, but before he could enter he heard a high pitched..buzzing?
Not wanting to be subjected to an animal based death, he took out his pistol and fired at the noise.
The shot rang out, encased by silence.
He turned back to the door-
Sucking in a breath, he turned to face his agitator, spotting it floating a few feet away from him. He placed the pestilential insect in the center of his cross hair, and fired at will.
Once again, silence. Wesker lowered his pistol, glancing around, unable to locate the bee, and once again reached for the-
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
Wesker felt his blood boil, and as he was about to let out a stream of unashamed and unfiltered profanity, he heard the sound of someone far less vexing.
Wesker felt all previous anger leave him, as he lowered his gun, turning to face Chris. His face was dirty, as was his uniform; with mud once viscous and clumpy, now dried and stale, culminating on the soles of his shoes. His skin, which was coated with a thin layer of sweat, emanated the poignant and undeniable odour of fear and distress. His eyes however, despite being darkened by the large purple patches that lay beneath, his eyes displayed no hint of fear, only relief.
Wesker felt something twist and coil within him, only to settle uncomfortably on his chest, providing an unwanted weight.
The bees were long forgotten.
“My words exactly…” Chris’ eyes flicked to the lamp behind Wesker, staring at the moths, moving towards the light as they did, as if in a trance.
“Where’s Jill? Thought you were with her.”
“Yeah I know.” Wesker paused. He hadn’t seen Jill in several hours, nor Barry. For all he knew, they could be dead by now. But not Chris.
The weight squirmed wildly.
“We got separated.” He finished, turning around to find Chris’ eyes already on him. The man’s eyes flicked across his face, before finally landing on Wesker’s, a gaze so intense that for a moment, Wesker forgot he was wearing his glasses.
“I see..” Chris rested his hands on his hips, looking at the floor, as silence swallowed the hallway, the only sound being the quiet fluttering of the moths around the lamp, their focus solely on its light. It didn’t matter that it was artificial, it didn’t matter that it was just a small meaningless flickering candle that would soon burn out. To them, light meant direction. The knowledge that there was a way forward, they just had to fly towards it, to take the next step. This was never explicitly taught to them; instead it was something intrinsically understood, as part of their very nature. They didn’t use the light to see, they didn’t need to. It didn’t matter that the light would eventually go out; its importance was not founded in what it gave, but rather in what it was: hope.
Wesker took an imperceptible step forward, overwhelmed with a desire to speak, to say something to fill the silence and ease Chris’ obvious anxiety.
He bit down forcefully on his tongue.
“Anyway” Chris began, snapped out of his trance. “We’d better find a way out of here before we turn into zombie food.” A weak smile danced around the corners of his mouth, and Wesker’s unwanted weight thrashed violently within his chest.
“Got any suggestions, Wesker?”
“We should get a better grip on the situation.”
“There must be areas still to be explored in that other mansion.”
There isn’t. He’s being sent to his death.
Wesker swallowed, glancing down at the floor behind his glasses, pushing the words out.
“Chris” He began, and the younger man looked at him, his sense of loyalty still unscathed by everything he’d faced tonight, “I want you to check them out one more time, I’ll continue my investigation here.”
And he was the one sending him.
“Sure thing!” Chris nodded, giving Wesker a genuine smile, one which Wesker couldn’t bring himself to return, instead choosing to walk quickly down the corridor, and into a room marked ‘002.’
He closed the door and pressed his back to the cold wood, letting his heart slow. He heard the door to the guardhouse close in the distance, and he couldn’t help but wince, his mind running away to images of Chris- Chris and his skill, Chris and his stupid, incessant loyalty, Chris and his smile, Chris and his mangled body-
Wesker shut his eyes, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.
He had come this far. He couldn’t lose sight of what mattered most, not now, not with everything he’d risked; not for anyone, even Chris.
The weight shrank down, cowering beneath his ambition.
Recomposing himself, he replaced his glasses and stood up straight, going to lock the door behind him, when the door was pushed open by none other than-
DUNDUNDUNNN (the rest is on my a03 :)
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